


Finally

by Consulting Carnation (reluctant_necromancer215)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ABO, Alpha!Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!Sherlock, Omegaverse, Parent!lock, Smut, overse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5984884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluctant_necromancer215/pseuds/Consulting%20Carnation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade has always been there for Sherlock, but things get more complicated after the two spend Sherlock's heat together. Omega!Sherlock and Alpha!Lestrade. Omega!verse, meaning smut of the m/m variety, heat, knotting, and eventual mpreg. Don't like, don't read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Two Become One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! Again, this is Omegaverse, implying that there will be biological shenanigans, knotting, explicit m/m sex, and eventually some mpreg. Don't like any of that? Turn back now, foolish mortals. Also, it should be noted that while this first chapter is almost completely descriptive sex, the whole story will not be like that. It's just to establish an intimacy. There will be other sex scenes, but they will not be frequent. Thank you, I hope you enjoy, and leave kudos/comments! They fuel my soul <3

[8:36 pm] I won't be taking any cases for a few days. –SH

Is there something wrong? Are you okay, Sherlock? –GL

Biological issues. Unavoidable. –SH

Oh... Right umm... Right. Of course. Text when you're up and running again. –GL

[9:14] You're an alpha, aren't you? –SH

[9:19] Yes, I am. Where are you going with this? –GL

Come over –SH

Sherlock... Are you sure? I mean... You're not just asking because….? –GL

I'm sure. Please. –SH

I'll request a week's sick leave. –GL

Be quick. –SH

Oh... Now? Right. Sure. –GL

Now. –SH

Sherlock, just... It might take me a little bit. I'll be there as soon as I can. –GL

Okay. –SH

Where's John? –GL

Out with Sarah. Besides, he's a beta. I don't want him here. –SH

I'm aware of that... It just might be awkward if he comes home. –GL

He won't. He never comes home during my heat. He spends a few days with his girlfriend. He knows his scent agitates me. –SH

Right. Okay. I'm on my way over now. Are you on birth control? –GL

Yes. Of course. Don't be an idiot. I've been on birth control since I was 15. –SH

Some Omegas aren't. I'm just making sure Sherlock. –GL

Okay, I'm just pulling up now. –GL

I'm upstairs in my room. The door is locked, ask Mrs. Hudson for a key. –SH

Greg took a deep breath and knocked on Mrs. Hudson's door. Once she was satisfied that Sherlock did indeed want him upstairs she handed over the key. Greg made sure to lock the door behind him before walking up Sherlock's room. As soon as he entered the flat, the scent hit him like a brick wall. The air was thick with the smell of hot, desperate lust and his need immediately began to strain against his trousers. His breath was knocked out of him as he entered Sherlock's bedroom, the scent increasing tenfold and his lust multiplied by the erotic sight before him.  
Sherlock was sitting up in bed, his wild mane of curls matted to his head with sweat and his usually milky white skin flushed with lust. His pupils were blown wide, obscuring almost all hints of the icy irises beneath. He ran a hand through his hair as he sat up fully, revealing that he wasn't wearing any clothes. His slender body heaved as he gasped for air, drawing in long, deep lungfuls of the Alpha's scent. "Greg, I want to be perfectly clear about something. Do not try to control yourself. At all. Do I make myself clear?" The detective struggled to convey the same control and confidence he exuded at crime scenes, but the quaver of his voice and the shallowness of his breathing gave away the ruse.  
Greg looked over the pale naked skin of the Omega in front of him, his mouth watering with anticipation. "I'll control myself enough not to hurt you." He whispered as he started frantically disrobing. He launched himself onto the bed, straddling the omega and pressing up against Sherlock's body, breathing in his scent. Sherlock wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders and his long legs around his waist. Greg had fantasized for years about having those slender limbs tangled around him, and now that it was happening he found himself fighting to control his instinct to just take Sherlock in the purest and most rough way. Sherlock released a small moan as he reveled in the Alpha's scent. "I'm no virgin Greg. I'm not delicate..." He whispered, cringing when he heard an unbidden whine escape his own throat at the feeling of Lestrade's erection pressing against his stomach. Sherlock hated being reduced to this, a desperate animal, but he knew better than to fight it at this stage. "Dammit... Now. Please..."

Greg growled deeply into Sherlock's ear, shifting so that Sherlock was on his back as Greg loomed over him before pressing into that tight, velvet heat with a groan. He set a gentle pace, just enough to drive them both mad, but still nowhere near enough. Sherlock moaned loudly at the penetration, rutting his hips upward in time with Greg's thrusts. "Oh God yeeesss... " He whimpered, clutching Greg tightly against his body. His cock throbbed as it was pressed between the two bodies and he rubbed himself against the other man, desperately searching for more of that wonderful friction. Greg moaned into Sherlock's neck as he snapped his hips against him, the room filling with the thick, heady scent of sex and the symphony of skin slapping skin. Greg lost all control of his inner Alpha, changing to a brutal rhythm that abused Sherlock's prostate with every thrust.

Sherlock cried out in pleasure as Greg picked up the pace. The Alpha's name became a chant, a constant prayer pouring forth from his lips. His fingertip dragged down Greg's back, leaving deep red marks of possession. One of Sherlock's hands moved to the back of Greg's neck, pressing him into the Omega's throat, subconsciously encouraging a bond bite. Greg moaned into Sherlock's neck, quickly twisting his head away. "Sherlock..." He moaned. "Are you s-sure... Could just be... H-hormones." He groaned, trying to resist the primal instinct. But god how he would love to see his bond mark on that marble white flesh, claiming Sherlock as his own. He snapped their hips together faster, moaning as he felt his knot begin to expand inside the tight warmth. "Don't care..." Sherlock panted. "Do it... Knot me... Claim me... Make me yours..." He felt himself nearing his climax and his mind went fuzzy. Suddenly there wasn't a world outside anymore; no cases, no Moriarty, no drugs, no John. Only Greg.

The Alpha groaned, unable to resist the primal urge to bond any longer. At the exact moment that his knot began to inflate inside Sherlock's body he sunk his teeth deep into the younger man's throat. The double sensation of Sherlock's walls stretching around his knot and his blood spilling over his lips fueled his already overpowering orgasm as he pumped his seed deep inside the omega.

Sherlock screamed in ecstasy as he felt himself becoming so deliciously filled. The pain in his neck somehow translated to even more pleasure and he shot his release all over both their stomachs before collapsing, exhausted, beneath Greg. He felt so blissfully full. Full of his Alpha and his Alpha's seed and bursting at the seams with love. He looked up at him, those stormy eyes, for once, calm and trusting. Greg smiled softly down at Sherlock, rolling them both over into their sides and pulling Sherlock into his arms, stroking his back softly. "I have you Sherlock." He whispered softly. "You're mine... My Omega…" He nuzzled at Sherlock's neck and hummed. Sherlock smiled. "Yours..." He purred as he snuggled closer into the Alpha's arms, his Alpha's arms. Greg smiled softly, pulling Sherlock closer. "Go to sleep." He whispered. "I'll pull out when I can. You'll never have to spend another heat alone, I promise. I'll be with you for every single one. No one else will touch you... My beautiful Omega." Sherlock smiled and brushed his lips against Greg's in a gentle kiss. Their first kiss, Sherlock thought to himself. "Only yours... You're so good to me Greg..." His voice trailed off as drowsiness overcame him and he fell into a deep sleep. Greg kissed his new mate softly, holding Sherlock close to him and stroking his hair. He smiled to himself as Sherlock drifted off; it had obviously been a long time since the Omega had slept properly. Pulling the blankets over them he snuggled into his mates embrace and fell asleep with Sherlock in his arms.  
When Sherlock woke up the next morning, it wasn't alone as usual. There were warm, strong arms wrapped around his waist and hot puffs of breath on his neck. When he shifted in bed, or tried to, he realized that Greg was still knotted inside him. Ah, Greg. Now he remembered. He winced slightly as the knot shifted inside him before leaning against his mate and waiting for him to wake up, smiling in lazy happiness. It was only a few minutes later when Greg woke, having felt Sherlock shift beside him. He smiled lightly at Sherlock, brushing ink black curls out of his face. "Morning," He said softly. He kept Sherlock close for both their comfort as he realized that they were still knotted. Sherlock stretched his long pale limbs. "Morning. Why are you still knotted? It's rather unusual." Sherlock's mind started sifting through possibilities as to why the knot had lasted so long. It could be because Greg hadn't had an Omega since the split with his wife. Or maybe because Sherlock had never been with anyone during his heat before. His mind had taken leave of him the night before, but now it began to whir back to life, functioning at full capacity in no time. Greg chuckled to himself. Now that the fog of heat had lifted he could practically see the gears in Sherlock's min beginning to spin once more. "It's because we're bonded. The stronger the bond, the longer the knot will stay." He mumbled, still half asleep. "Should go down soon, then we can clean you up and get you something to eat before your next round." He hummed, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck, wallowing in the scent of a newly bonded Omega.

"That sounds lovely..." Sherlock tangled his fingers in Greg's short grey hair, smiling. "This is lovely, actually. I thought it would be dreadful to be bonded. To belong to someone. To be controlled. But this is nice. And I know you won't hold me back, try to control me or change me. I trust you…" Greg let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. Sherlock wanted to be bonded to him; even now that the fever of heat had subsided, he still wanted it. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." Greg whispered, kissing at his temple. "And I would never try to change you." Sherlock stiffened at the confession and Lestrade briefly wondered if he had taken things too fast. But that fear disappeared when the detective relaxed back into his arms. "I love you too, Gregory." He whispered. Greg hummed softly, pulling Sherlock closer as he felt his knot deflating. "I was worried you wouldn't want this in the morning. I mean, once we both came to our senses…." Sherlock shook his head against Greg's shoulder. "I've been thinking about this for a long time now, weighing the benefits and risks. I've wanted you for a long time, but I had to make sure I wanted... this. To belong to you. But now I know I do..." Sherlock snuggled against him happily.

Greg smiled as he pulled out of Sherlock, licking at Sherlock's bond mark and kissing it softly. "I'm glad." He whispered. "I'm glad it wasn't just a spur of the moment thing. I'm glad to have you. I love you... I've wanted you for so long... Never thought you'd want me though." Sherlock pulled away, looking genuinely confused. "Why on earth wouldn't I want you? If anything, you wouldn't want someone like me..." He trailed off, blushing gently. Greg stroked Sherlock's cheek, shaking his head. "I'm old, boring..."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You may be older than me, but you've never been boring. Besides, I'm a recovering drug addict and a sociopath." Greg stiffened at the reminder of his new lover's past. His mind involuntarily brought up images of the skinny, strung out teenager he had found on the streets of London. His inner alpha growled at the thought, pushing it away. "You're different now Sherlock. You're an amazing, brilliant man and I love you." "I love you too..." Sherlock whispered to him. Then he paused looking confused. A bemused smile danced over his face. "This hasn't happened in a while, but I think I might actually be hungry. That's your job I believe." He smiled at Greg lovingly.  
Lestrade smiled, thrilled that Sherlock was allowing him to take on the role of provider. He stroked his mate's unruly curls with one hand as he went to get out of bed. "What sounds good? I have to admit, I've never actually seen you eat much of anything before, so I'm not sure what you like." Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "Not sure. Tea or something. Toast maybe. Anything you can make quickly, I need you in bed with me." Greg smiled as he saw Sherlock's eyes go vacant and his hands steeple under his chin. Probably making room in his mind palace for information regarding their new relationship.

He stumbled into the kitchen completely naked, as Sherlock had growled in an honestly terrifying way when he had tried to put on clothes. He put on a kettle for tea and made six slices of toast before opening the cupboard to look for jam. And he had no problem at all finding it. 'Why the hell does John keep so much jam in the flat?' He thought to himself before selecting blackberry and spreading it on the toast. When the tea was done he gathered it up along with the toast and returned to the bedroom. What he found made him stop dead in his tracks. Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the bed, having an animated conversation. With a skull. He blinked a couple times to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. Yup, definitely a skull. Sherlock looked up at him and smirked, placing the skull back on the dresser. "Talking to it helps me think." He said by way of explanation as he beckoned for Lestrade to sit. 'What have I gotten myself into?' the Alpha thought to himself with a smile.

With his mate safely on the bed next to him, Sherlock took a sip of tea and snuggled into Greg's arms. Greg smiled and kissed the top of Sherlock's head, handing him a piece of toast. Sherlock nibbled around the edges for a bit when suddenly he felt something change. He skin was all of a sudden much too tight and the fabric of the blankets too coarse. The body next to him was scalding hot and he felt a new wave of lubrication slicking between his legs. Greg scented the change in his mate immediately. He put the food on the table before crashing his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock whined in need and this time Greg positioned him on his hands and knees, hardly preparing him before thrusting deep inside his mate's entrance. Sherlock was soon rutting desperately beneath him, pushing backwards and greedily taking in every inch of Greg's impressive Alpha cock. When both men reached their climax the screams echoed throughout the flat. Still panting, Greg whispered "I want that skull out of the bedroom. It's creeping me out." Sherlock simply chuckled.


	2. In Which John is Confused, As Usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, sorry about that luvs. Future updates will NOT be this short, I promise. But I felt John's reaction deserved it's own chapter and I was hoping writing it would clear out the writers-block cobwebs. So anyway, here it is! Hope you enjoy and leave comments to feed my soul :) I love all of you <3

John returned to 221b three days later, confident that he had avoided all the turmoil that always accompanied Sherlock's heat. He deposited his overnight bag by the door, deciding to deal with it later, and strode to the kitchen for a bite to eat. "Sherlock! I'm home!" He shouted, not sure where his flatmate was. But when he turned the corner to the kitchen, he found Sherlock sitting at the table, calmly sipping a cup of tea. "I'm right here John, no need to yell." John stared in shock. This Sherlock was a far cry from the usual post-heat version of the man. John usually came home to find Sherlock pale, badly needing a shower, and literally shaking with sexual frustration. But this time, Sherlock seemed to not only be completely calm, but, God forbid, in a good mood. There was an easy smile on the younger man's lips and a relaxed tone to his posture. "What-" John began, but was cut off by yet another surprise. Lestrade walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel and wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his shirt hung over his shoulder. "Oh, hello John. Nice to see that you're home." He said awkwardly as he poured himself a cup of tea, never once taking his eyes of Sherlock. John picked his jaw up off the floor as his eyes darted back and forth between the two men. "You two…Oh…Oh." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How articulate of you John." "He's probably just a tad shocked," Lestrade added. "A tad- You two mated? You-" He pointed to Greg "Mated with Sherlock?!" When both men nodded silently, John sighed and sat down. "All right then. Congratulations, I suppose. It's just unexpected is all, I really am happy for you two." Greg smiled, "Thank you John." Glancing at the clock his eyebrows rose. "Dammit, I'm late. Sorry, have to run." Sherlock tilted his head up expectantly and Greg kissed him lovingly before pulling on his shirt and rushing out the door. "Love you." He shouted on his way out. "Love you too" Sherlock responded, skimming over the newspaper. John just shook his head. This had to have been one of the strangest mornings of his life.


	3. In Which Courtship is Achieved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised it for this weekend, but it's here a little early! A new chapter!! And a proper one this time, not like that short little one. Hope you all enjoy <3 Leave me comments, I love to hear back from you all on how our boys' romance is going

If John had thought anything would change now that Sherlock was mated, he was dead wrong. The moody detective went about his life as usual, moping about the flat, spacing out for hours on end, and playing mad violin solos at odd hours of the morning. Everything continued as usual, and John didn't bring it up, until one day the issue could no longer be avoided. "Sherlock?" He said one day as they sat in front of the telly one evening. "Hm?" Sherlock responded.

"How're you and Lestrade?"

"Lestrade? Oh, we're fine. Why?"

"Well, you haven't seen him since… I thought maybe something was wrong."

Sherlock frowned. "Why would I have seen him? He works full time, I'm always busy; we hardly have time for the kind of silly flirtation that you seem to find necessary in a relationship."

John rolled his eyes. "And Greg's okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Sherlock, most people, normal people, need attention, affection from their partner."  
Sherlock's brow furrowed as he mulled the concept over. Did Greg want him to make the first move? Traditional manners dictated that the Alpha would make the first move; Sherlock usually disregarded such customs, but had never been in this kind of relationship and thus wasn't quite sure what to do, although he was loathe to admit as much. He truly did care for the other man, and didn't want to lose what they had. He loathed asking for help, but John was far more experienced than he in this particular area. "What do you think I should do?" He murmured after several moments of prideful hesitation, looking up at John.  
John's eyebrows raised; the Great Sherlock Holmes was asking for his advice. This was going in the blog for sure. "Um, well. You should at least text him or something, yeah?" Sherlock scowled. "And say what, exactly?" John sighed. "I dunno Sherlock, just ask how his day is going or something." Small talk, the detective thought to himself, I despise small talk. Sherlock begrudgingly took up his phone and went about composing a message.

Hello. How are you? -SH 

___Nope, that sounded awkward. _DeleteDeleteDeleteDelete. _Maybe he should try sounding like John.___ _ _

_____Hey there luv, what's up? -SH ____ _ _ _

______Oh Christ no. Just no. _DeleteDeleteDeleteDeleteDeleteDelete. _____ _ _ _ _

_________Hi. -SH ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Not poetry, but not insulting either. He pressed 'send' before he could change his mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He set his phone down on his stomach and stared at it, as if daring it to vibrate. He quickly became frustrated when it failed to signal a response after 53 seconds._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"He's probably at work, Sherlock." John provided, seemingly reading his mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The detective groaned impatiently, dropping his phone to the ground and falling face down on the sofa. Work, also known as that cursed, useless past-time that prevented John/Greg/Molly from being available to cater to his every whim; Oh how he hated it. He lay there on the sofa, his mind churning through everything from Greg to blood coagulation to carrots to the royal family and back to Greg for some reason. He sat up and tugged at his hair in frustration._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"That's it; He's never going to text back. He hates me. We're done." He fell dramatically back to the sofa.  
John just sighed and turned the page of his newspaper. "Sherlock, it's only been…" He checked his watch, "Four minutes and 38 seconds. I mean really. You're acting like a teenage girl."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sherlock scowled at him as menacingly as he could manage with his hair sticking up comically in all directions. Suddenly, he heard the telltale vibration of his cell phone, and, in his haste to retrieve the offending electronic, proceeded to fall off the couch. John's subdued laughter and a murmur of "Like a bloody teenager…" could be heard from behind the sports section. Meanwhile, on the floor from which Sherlock could not be bothered to remove himself, a slightly twitterpated detective was opening a text message._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Hey love, I was wondering when I would hear from you. Guess we've both been busy, yeah? Anyway I've got a murder if you want it, maybe dinner after? –GL ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Sherlock quickly stifled the ridiculous smile that was threatening to overtake his face. He shook his head and tried to ignore the strange little fluttering in his chest. Cardiac arrhythmia is uncommon in men of his age, so the only explanation would be some sort of juvenile infatuation. This caused a contemplative scowl to replace the controlled smile on his face. He knew what he had said that night, that the L word had been exchanged several times and with complete sincerity, but the fact that this man, this Alpha, was completely taking his mental faculties by storm was more than a little disconcerting. But Sherlock pushed those internal conflicts aside and typed out a reply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Of course I want the murder, and dinner sounds lovely. My place or yours? I could get John out of here for the night. -SH ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He smirked at his own clever insertion of innuendo. He was letting Lestrade know that sex was definitely on the table tonight, even welcome, without stating it explicitly. The suggestion that Greg could stay overnight made that irritating arrhythmia reappear in Sherlock's chest. He ignored it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________My place would be best, no one to disturb us. I could order in? –GL ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________Perfect. Chinese? –SH ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________Chinese it is. See you tonight. –GL ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Sherlock was off the floor in an instant, striding into his bedroom only to appear moments later dressed in his normal suit and favourite purple shirt. Really, he had chosen it because he liked it. Certainly not because he appreciated the way Greg's eyes raked over his body when he wore it. No, certainly not. He pulled on his coat just as John looked up from his laptop, which had replaced the newspaper. Probably updating that ridiculous work of fiction he called a blog._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Going somewhere?" John asked with a smirk._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Murder." Sherlock replied as he wrapped his scarf around his neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Mmhmm…." John drawled, "Would this happen to be the same murder that was in the papers today? The one you said was 'predictable,' 'boring,' and 'a waste of my precious time'?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the smaller man in contempt.  
"I changed my mind." He growled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________John laughed, rolling his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Oh please, you did not. You've got a date. Look at you, all dolled up. You've become quite the smitten kitten, haven't you Sherlock?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________The detective's only response was to slam the door quite a bit harder than necessary._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________~_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________When Lestrade walked into Scotland Yard after three days of shagging Sherlock Holmes senseless, he expected everyone to be able to tell. He expected heads to turn, eyebrows to be raised, well…. He expected something. What he got in reality was absolutely nothing. He felt a little disappointed that no one could tell he had just had the best week of his life, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a bit chuffed that he had been so efficient at removing the omegas scent from his person. But of course this couldn't last forever. Most of the officers at the Yard were betas, as both alphas and omegas were generally discouraged from pursuing the career. For alphas it was a matter of handling delicate situations with omegas, and vice versa for omegas, and thus Lestrade had fought very hard to be where he was today. There was, however, one other alpha who worked at Scotland Yard. And that alpha was bound to notice the change in his scent. He braced himself for the comments to start flying as Sally Donovan entered his office. She opened her mouth to speak but paused, tasting the air, before her lips twisted into a wicked smile.  
"I don't want to hear it, Donovan." He said before she could remark on his changed scent.  
"Oh come on, Lestrade. Really? Mated?" She teased, grinning._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Greg felt a blush rise in his face as he tried to remain collected. Eventually a smirk emerged and he nodded, laughing along with her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Congratulations sir," Sally said, clapping him on the shoulder. "So who's the lucky omega? I didn't even know you were seeing anyone."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Greg stumbled over his words for a moment, unsure how to proceed. He and Sherlock hadn't discussed when they would tell people. Well, Sherlock had told John in a very matter-of-fact way, but then again that was John. Those two told each other everything. He knew that Sherlock could be very secretive when it came to his personal life, so he decided to err on the side of caution. He smiled at her and shook his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Secret. Can't say. Not yet at least, I mean, it won't stay under wraps forever…" And he could imagine the repercussions when it came to light. Predictably Sally argued, tried to goad him into giving her a name, but a 999 call of a found body interrupted the conversation, and thus the topic was shelved for the next week as they worked on what should have been a routine homicide.  
Lestrade was at the end of his rope and was just about to give up and call Sherlock for some help, but he was unsure of how it would be interpreted if he had stayed radio-dead since they mated but called on business. Luckily for him, that was when his phone chirped, denoting a text. He grinned when he saw who it was from, and was insanely pleased when he managed to hook a date with his omega (his omega, Christ that sounded good) and get help with his crime scene in the process. He had to admit though, that there was a steadily growing ball of nerves that had taken up residence in his belly. He didn't know if he could stand it if Sherlock returned to his impersonal, derisive ways. He knew it was unrealistic to expect the detective to do a complete 180, but he secretly hoped for just a touch of affection from his mate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Lestrade couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face when he saw Sherlock strut up to the crime scene, those gorgeous glasz eyes flitting about as they took in a million details that the Yard had missed. He looked up and locked eyes with Lestrade, smiling coquettishly. "Inspector…" he purred. Purred. The omega had definitely not forgotten whose mark he bore on his neck. Speaking of mark… Lestrade's jaw dropped as he watched Sherlock loosen his scarf, making his bond mark, which was still swollen and a very pleasing shade of dark red, very visible. Sherlock looked up at him through his eyelashes as he knelt next to the body. "Close your mouth Lestrade, it's rude to stare." He drawled, a hint of flirtatious smile showing through his cold demeanor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Got anything yet, Freak?" Donovan asked as she strode up to the scene. He ignored her, as usual, and she was on the edge of making a cutting remark when her eyes widened in shock. Then a harsh laugh escaped her mouth. "Oh, this is rich…" She laughed, approaching Sherlock. "Who in their right mind would have bonded with you? I mean honestly, you-" She broke off mid-sentence as the pieces clicked together in her head. She looked first at Lestrade, then at Sherlock, and then back to Lestrade. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, making her look rather like a fish as she tried to process this new information. Sherlock stood, looking rather pleased with himself, and walked past her to Lestrade, proceeding to fire off deductions as if nothing had happened. He wrapped up his monologue with "… And so that should give you more than enough evidence to hold up in court, if Sergeant Donovan ever picks her jaw up off the floor and arrests the culprit." He flashed Greg a stunning, genuine smile before turning on his heel and leaving the scene. Greg watched him leave, stunned, before he realized that the detective was heading not towards Baker Street, but towards Lestrade's own flat. His phone chirped with a text;_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________I'll be waiting. -SH ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. In Which This Is Not As Easy As Previously Anticipated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! New chapter today, sorry it's been so long. Remember to leave kudos and especially comments!! Hearing from you all makes my day. Our boys run into a touch of conflict this chapter. But all good romances have some fights, so don't get too worried. Also there's a bit of time skipping from here on out, because it wouldn't work very well to write this fic day by day. Thank you for reading! <3

Gentle, warm tendrils of sunlight brushed against Sherlock's face in the early morning, slowly rousing his senses and causing aqua eyes to flutter open. The Omega stretched luxuriously, slowly becoming aware of the tender embrace he was wrapped in. He rolled over lazily, nuzzling into Greg's chest with a contented sigh. He glanced at the clock; 6:34. Definitely too early for Greg to want to be awake, especially on his day off. Sherlock sighed, tracing small patterns and circles on his lovers skin as he tried to think of ways to entertain himself. The detective really only needed about three or four good hours of sleep a night, and he'd already gotten much more than that. So, in short, he was bored. Bored, and bit hungry, and unfortunately tangled up in the arms of a very possessive, sleeping Alpha. He could try to go back to sleep, but even if he was successful he doubted it would last long. He peeked at Greg's face, recognizing the telltale signs of REM deep sleep. He was probably exhausted from last night. At the memory, a small smile curled up the edges of Sherlock's lips.

Last night had been truly exquisite. From the satisfaction of being able to rub his new relationship in Donovan's face, to the sweet, comfortable way they'd had dinner together, to the exhaustingly amazing sex that had followed; it had all been perfect. He'd tried his hand at relationships in the past, although nothing came close to this level of commitment, and every time the relationship had felt forced and uncomfortable. As if his partner was trying to change who he was, and what he wanted. This didn't feel that way. This felt almost shockingly natural, as if this relationship was an extension of himself instead of an awkward prosthetic. In contemplating this, he ended up accidentally getting lost in his own thoughts and hours passed without the detective even noticing.

He only snapped out of the trance when he felt the warm body beside him shift, and gentle kisses began to drop onto his neck and shoulders. "Hey Sunshine…" Greg said with a lopsided smile as Sherlock's eyes rose to meet his. "Have I told you how much I love waking up next to you?" Sherlock fought back a juvenile blush, but let himself smile. "You may have mentioned it a few times…." He purred, leaning up to press a kiss to the Alpha's lips. Greg chuckled, running a fond hand through Sherlock's sleep-mussed curls. "Lost in your mind palace?" "Just… Doing a bit of organizing." Sherlock responded. "Organizing?" The inspector raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well… You know, about all this. Trying to fit this new relationship in with everything else. It took some serious work." He said with a smirk. "Is everything okay?" Greg looked slightly concerned. "Yes, everything's fine. It's fine." Sherlock said soothingly, nuzzling his neck. "There are a lot of things we need to discuss, but not necessarily right now. We're fine. Lovely. This is lovely." Sherlock added reassuringly, smiling at him.

Greg nodded, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's jawbone. "If you insist, sweetheart. Just let me know if there's anything we need to talk about, or anything you're worried about." "Of course." Sherlock said, leaning into his touch. "For now though, I think we both need a shower and some breakfast." Greg smiled in agreement, and the two went to the shower together. And my, what a glorious shower it was. It made Sherlock wonder why he’d ever bothered showering alone. 

Their afternoon was filled with the two going over different details of the case they had solved the day before, organizing witnesses and compiling evidence, and Sherlock pointing out what details his partner had missed. The detective left briefly to get a lab sample from Molly, but returned once he'd gotten what he needed. In all honesty, Greg had expected him to lark off to Baker Street at any moment, and was increasingly surprised each time Sherlock came back to his flat. And that was how they came to their current arrangement; Sherlock sitting at the kitchen counter mixing various substances into blood, and Greg standing a few feet away cooking up a stir-fry for their dinner. Sherlock rarely ever mentioned being hungry, but Greg's Alpha instincts constantly nagged him to feed and care for his mate. Regardless of whether or not the Omega wanted it. 

"You'll have to put that away soon, love. Nearly dinner." He said over his shoulder, receiving only a vague hum in response. "Which of these looks more viscous to you?" Sherlock said, holding up two nearly identical vials of blood and ignoring Greg’s previous request. The Alpha squinted for a moment before shaking his head. "I dunno babe, you know that's not my thing. How would you usually test it?" Sherlock huffed, setting the vials down. "Usually I'd throw them at the wall and observe the splatter pattern, but I have a feeling you'd appreciate that even less than John does…." "And you would be absolutely right." Greg said firmly, setting the table for two. "No blood splatter in the flat." Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned back, stealing a kiss before going back to his blood samples. This was their new normal, Greg thought to himself with a small smile. Blood samples over dinner, and skulls in the bedroom. It was lovely, in it's own mad way. Lovely madness.

Over the next few months, it came to pass that Lestrade’s flat and Baker Street became interchangeable, with the couple alternatingly spending nights at one or the other. There were highlights to both arrangements, Sherlock came to realize. He initially thought he’d always prefer to have Greg with him at Baker Street, as it was the atmosphere to which he’d become accustomed. But one evening, when the passionate pair hadn’t had enough patience to make it to the bedroom, one very affronted and embarrassed John Watson firmly suggested that they either learn some self-control, or spend more time at Greg’s flat. Which was how they ended up here, in Greg’s living room, half-asleep on the sofa after several rounds of lazy post-case sex. Half-eaten takeaway sat abandoned on the coffee table, and Greg was only half watching the mindless crime drama that was playing on the telly. “We’re more interesting than those idiots. Even your staff is more interesting.” Sherlock mumbled against his chest, gesturing vaguely at the television. The Omega was in the middle of one of his typical post-case crashes. The episodes were characterized by Sherlock’s body demanding everything that it had been deprived of during the case (i.e. food, sex, sleep, etc.), and demanding that every need be met in the span of a few hectic hours. Which had become quite the interesting job for Lestrade. 

He smiled down at Sherlock, watching as the sleep prerogative made it’s presence more and more known. “I love you.” He murmured, stroking the sleepy detectives wild curls back from his face. Sherlock’s icy eyes flickered up, crinkling as he smiled. “I know you do. You say it all the time.” He chuckled, nuzzling into his mates clavicle. Sherlock stretched lazily. “Take me to bed. I’ll go back to Baker Street in the morning and change before coming to the Yard. I know you need me to do that silly paperwork.” He said with a lopsided grin, sitting up. Greg sighed, shaking his head. Not for the first time, he felt irritation tug at him, and he was significantly less successful at brushing it off than he had been in the past. Greg often spent the night at Baker Street, and Sherlock conversely often slept at his flat. The difference was, Greg had all but moved into Sherlock’s flat. He kept several changes of clean clothes there, along with toiletries and a spare phone charger. But Sherlock…. Sherlock refused to even bring so much as a toothbrush over to Greg’s flat. The detective always brushed it off as a ‘waste of space’ or ‘not important.’ Maybe it was the exhaustion from the case, or maybe Greg had just heard this too many times, but he couldn’t just let it slide this time. “Or,” He said, giving a tight smile even though his teeth were gritting. “Or you could act like any reasonable human being in a relationship, and bring a few changes of clothes here.” 

Sherlock’s easy smile fell, eyes going a bit wide as Greg’s sudden change in tone. “We’ve been over this, you know that.” He tried to stay casual, wandering over to Greg and tugging at his hand to pull him towards the bedroom. But Greg pulled his hand back, standing and shaking his head. “No, Sherlock, I’m serious. It would be /so/ much easier, you know it would, if you had a change of clothes here. You know that, you’re so damn clever, so why won’t you just—“ “Stop.” Sherlock interrupted, straightening up and looking defensive. “Just stop, Greg. I’ve told you, I have no problem with going back to—“ But Lestrade interrupted him. “Sherlock, that’s ridiculous! We’ve been together nearly six months, we’re mates for fucks sake, why won’t you—“ “I do not want to live with you!” Sherlock shouted, regretting the words almost the instant they left his mouth. Those words carried far more weight than he’d intended.

Greg felt the color drain from his face, and he scrubbed a hand over his countenance as he sighed heavily. Sherlock didn’t want to live with him. Ever, it seemed. They were mates, bonded in every sense of the word, and he didn’t want to live with him. “So… So what are we doing?” He asked, sounding frustrated. “Sherlock, we’re /mates./ Most people don’t mate until they’re already living together, and then they… I dunno, buy a house, have some kids. What are we doing?” 

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest, swallowing and feeling sick to his stomach. He’d known this conversation was coming. It was rare for mates not to cohabitate, he knew that. Most mates were living together, and raising a family. Or at least a dog or something. But the thought of doing that, even with someone that he loved, made Sherlock feel short of breath, as if his head was wrapped in thin plastic and every breath brought him closer to asphyxiation. It made him feel trapped. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice small as he trained his eyes on the wall. 

Greg’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t believe his ears. This couldn’t be happening. Were they falling apart? Did Sherlock not want to be with him. “I love you.” He said simply, looking at Sherlock and knowing the words sounded harsher than intended. “I love you, and I… I’m committed, to you. I have been since that first night, Sunshine. But you…. You’re not….” He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t seem committed to me. And it scares me.” He admitted. 

“No, Greg, I…” Sherlock immediately struggled to find the right words that would reassure his partner. “I do love you, Greg..” He said quietly, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Lestrade’s. “I do. I’m just…. “ He bit his lip, at a loss for words for one of the first times in his life. His arms crossed over his chest, as if defending himself against the conflict that threatened to harm their relationship. “I’m an Omega.” He said finally, hating the way he was stating the obvious. “I’m an Omega, in a field not generally encouraged for Omegas. I bonded at a much older age than the average Omega, and I’m considerably older than most childless Omegas.” He stated, trying to keep his breathing regulated as he spoke. Greg’s face hadn’t softened at all, but he was staying quiet and giving Sherlock room to speak. Sherlock swallowed, and continued. “I… I have a level of independence that is considered unusual, for someone of my gender. And I’ve been questioned my entire life because of that. And I love you, so much, but I…. I am scared.” Sherlock admitted, eyes dropping. “I am scared of losing myself. I know there are many intelligent, successful Omegas who live with their mates, and even have children, but I can’t… I can’t reconcile that with the identity I’ve built for myself, right now. I want to, but I’m not ready.” He trailed off, sighing as he finished.

Greg’s face softened as he listened to Sherlock speak, feeling shame set in as he realized what Sherlock was saying. That he was essentially trying to pressure the detective into a scene of domesticity that he just wasn’t ready to accept. He stepped forward, placing his hand on Sherlock’s hip and using his other to tilt his head up to look at him. “Hey. I’m sorry. It’s okay, I just…. I was scared. I don’t want this to be casual, Sunshine. I’m crazy about you, and I want everything with you. But slowly. As slowly as you need it.” 

The relief that washed over Sherlock was so intense, so profound, that the detective was embarrassed to feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He stepped into Greg’s arms, leaning his head on the Alphas shoulder to hide the emotion that was clearly displayed on his face. “Thank you.” He murmured against his skin. “I’m sorry. I… I am trying. But I feel so dependent on you, and it’s a bit terrifying. It’s terrifying to need someone the way I need you.” Greg rubbed his back tenderly, pressing a kiss to his curls. “Shh, I know, Sunshine, I know.” He murmured. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” Sherlock smiled against his skin, going quiet. 

After a few moments of holding each other, Sherlock spoke. “I suppose a toothbrush couldn’t hurt.” Greg laughed, pulling back and kissing him deeply. “Toothbrush it is.”


	5. In Which Change Is Scary and Uncomfortable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!! I know it's been ages since I updated and I'm SO grateful to everyone who has stuck with this fic so far. I've been bitten by the writing bug so I'm hoping to get much more frequent updates from here on out *hugs* 
> 
> This chapter again focuses on Sherlock and John within the context of a Sherstrade relationship, because even if Sherlock is in love with Greg, John is still his best friend 
> 
> Enjoy lovelies!! Leave a comment please, they give me life <3 <3 <3

Natural disasters. Death of a family member. Diagnosis with terminal illness. House fires. Losing a cherished pet. Getting fired. Car wrecks Death threats. Chronic illness. Organ failure.   
These were all perfectly understandable things that would have triggered the immense pain, confusion, and betrayal that was displayed on Sherlock’s face when he showed up on Greg’s doorstep at 1:34 am on a Tuesday. The man looked like a lost child, confused and angry and hurt in ways that Lestrade had never seen before. “Sunshine….” He said softly, voice thick with concern and fear. “Locket, love, what happened?” He asked, tracing his fingertips over Sherlock’s cheekbones. The detective sighed shakily, lips pressed into a firm line of anger. “I…” He groaned.   
“Greg, he’s marrying her. He’s getting married.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John had first mentioned Mary exactly 11 months and fourteen days ago. He had come home from work with a ridiculous, lopsided smile on his face and hadn’t even noticed the spleen bleeding out on the kitchen table. Sherlock hadn’t paid it much mind, assuming Mary would fade from conversation over the next two weeks the way John’s countless previous girlfriends had. Until she didn’t. Until John mentioned that he wanted to introduce them. And unlike the previous women, this woman was… Interesting. Interesting in a very mundane way that Sherlock never would have thought possible. She wasn’t anything special, not in the conventional sense of the word; 5’4”, blonde, curvy, Beta. John’s type, in a nutshell. She was a nurse, she couldn’t cook, she wore knit and denim and laughed at cat videos. Perfectly ordinary. And yet… John loved her. John was completely utterly in love with her. She hadn’t met Sherlock with the same kind of competitive hostility that John’s past partners had displayed, and much to Sherlock’s surprise it soon became apparent that they had a lot in common. The same dry sense of humor, the same fond eye roll at John’s idiosyncrasies, the same cutting wit and soft blush. She was clever, and kind, and she loved John as much as he loved her. Sherlock approved. 

Sherlock approved, that is, until he realized what this meant. John being in a successful casual relationship led to a successful serious relationship led to…. This. An engagement and an impending wedding. And for all his cleverness, the detective didn’t see this coming. He hadn’t realized that John finding a partner would mean his best friend moving out. And now that it was quickly becoming a reality, with Mary looking at wedding dresses and John mentioning stag night plans, Sherlock was panicking. 

“Calm down, love.” Greg said firmly, his voice pulling Sherlock out of his own thoughts. Sherlock took a deep breath, sitting on the sofa and letting Greg pull him into his arms. “I… I live with him, he can’t just…” He swallowed, chewing the inside of his lip. “I don’t want to lose him, Greg.” He admitted quietly. He had never voiced these fears to John or Mary, and Mrs. Hudson wrote it off as fear of change. Greg’s face softened and he pressed a tender kiss to his mate’s temple. “Sherlock, Sunshine, you are not losing him. Things are just changing. Like things changed when you and I… Well. Things are changing again.” “But I don’t want them to change.” Sherlock groaned, leaning his head on Greg’s shoulder. “It’s always been the two of us, John and Sherlock, that’s /how it is./” Greg had to fight back a pang of jealousy as Sherlock spoke. He knew he couldn’t rank himself and John like that, it wasn’t fair. John was important to Sherlock, and as his partner, Greg had to respect that. “He’s your best friend. And he’ll still be. He’ll still work cases with you, still run roughshod over London with you. He’ll just go home to a different flat at the end of the day, yeah?” 

Sherlock nodded slightly, pulling at a spare thread on Greg’s sleeve. Things were going to change, but he only hoped their friendship wouldn’t. He hoped, desperately, that the life and career he’d built with John wouldn’t crumble because of a marriage. He nuzzled into Greg’s neck, sighing softly. “I’m happy for them. I’m trying to be. I like her, she’s lovely. I just wasn’t ready for this.” Greg laid down on the sofa, eyes still heavy from sleep and pulled Sherlock against his chest. “I know, Sunshine...” He murmured, stroking the detectives hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “And I can’t imagine how different things will be once they find out she’s pregnant…” Sherlock said distractedly. Greg’s eyes went wide, looking down at his mate. “You… What? She’s what?” Sherlock looked up at him with wide eyes. “I, um… I shouldn’t say anything until they figure it out, right?” He asked, biting his lip. Greg laughed, shaking his head. “Let them figure it out on their own. Drop a hint if you want, but let them share their own news.” “Mhmm….” Sherlock hummed in agreement. Now that his anxieties had been settled, the lack of sleep from the last few days was catching up to him. That combined with the warmth of his Alphas arms had him quickly drifting off. “Sleep, love.” Greg murmured, half asleep himself. “We’ll deal with weddings and all that in the morning.” 

The wedding was beautiful. Mary was a lovely blushing bride (glowing, according to family members as they pressed a hand to her barely-there bump) and John looked like the happiest man in the world. Sherlock, still dealing with his anxieties about his best friend getting married, hovered between John and Greg and the champagne the entire night, and was properly tipsy by the time Greg deposited him at Baker Street. It didn’t take much convincing for Sherlock to get him into his bedroom, and even less to get the good inspector between his legs. “/God/, I hate weddings… Promise me we’ll never do that, they’re awful…” Sherlock murmured as he felt himself drifting off into a post-orgasmic champagne-fueled haze. “You enjoyed yourself. A bit too much.” Greg chuckled, pressing a kiss to the Omegas forehead. “We don’t have to have a wedding if you don’t want to, Sunshine. Promise.” He said, pulling Sherlock flush against his naked body and tracing idle patterns on his pale skin. Sherlock went quiet for a long time, not quite asleep but certainly not lucid. “Greg… You, um.” He swallowed, hiding his face in the crook of Greg’s neck. “You could move in. If you wanted to.” Greg’s eyes went wide and he stiffened a bit. He shook his head, clearing the panic and excitement from his mind. “Go to sleep, Sherlock. You’re drunk and tired. We’ll talk in the morning, yeah?” He said softly, petting Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock barely heard him, having already fallen fast asleep in his arms. That was a conversation, it seemed, for another day.


End file.
